


Automatic Systematic Memory

by dimplelegacy



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: But Also Possible Permanent Character Death, Child Soldiers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Possible Temporary Character Death?, Shiro writes letters yay, Violence, Violet Evergarden AU, War, more tags will be added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-15
Updated: 2018-09-15
Packaged: 2019-07-12 13:47:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15996461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dimplelegacy/pseuds/dimplelegacy
Summary: War causes wounds which stay open long after it's over — even after they have become scars, the pain comes back from time to time. This is an untold story about people with those scars, but most of all, a story about a young man who knew violence long before he knew the meaning of love.Shiro is a broken weapon of war whose heart beats for only one person with violet eyes. For the sake of this man, he's slowly learning what it means to be a human again.Because of Keith, Shiro tries to find the purpose of the words "I love you" by helping others. Sometimes, saying "I love you" only needs a piece of paper. "





	Automatic Systematic Memory

**Author's Note:**

> Edit:
> 
> I want to thank my friend and partner [ringlov](http://ringlov.tumblr.com/tagged/ringlov%20draws%20stuff) for cheering me on and making this story really feel alive with their gorgeous, beautiful art-pieces. I do not deserve them.
> 
> Please go love their masterpieces, no matter if you enjoy my story or not:
> 
> The amethyst ( http://ringlov.tumblr.com/post/178123355791/automatic-systematic-memory-by-dimplelegacymila )
> 
> Ulaz and Shiro ( http://ringlov.tumblr.com/post/178125321239 )
> 
> Shoutout to my friend Lucia for streaming the anime with me and helping me come up with this idea.

 

 

 

The lights illuminated the streets like a cast of spell laid over the world. It was a quiet moment, a moment which wasn’t blessed upon many during a war. A soft breeze touched black strands of a hair and Shiro's eyes turned softer when he saw the movement.

 

After that, his eyes wandered to a humble stand and the purple ornament presented on its table.

 

The black-haired man noticed that Shiro wasn't following him so he turned around, curious. He saw Shiro standing and looking at the ornament, as if fascinated by its glow.

 

"Shiro?"

 

"It's violet," Shiro said softly. There was a real, small smile on his face which Keith had been seeing more and more. He turned his gaze towards Keith. "It's violet like your eyes."

 

Keith's eyes widened by a fraction and his body turned stiff.

 

"It's beautiful," Shiro added with that same, gentle voice. Like Keith was something precious.

 

So, so precious.

  
  
  
  


 

 

The first thing Shiro noticed was the smell; the lack of blood, smoke, and dirt in the air he breathed in. Instead, he smelled nothing. The air was clean, almost sterile, a completely unfamiliar scent for him.

 

Or not. He remembered the day when his Major was hurt badly and had stayed at the hospital for five days. Shiro hadn't left his side and while he waited for Major to get better, he had grown to hate the clean smell of the hospital.

 

Hospital. Was that where he was?

 

Shiro opened his eyes quickly and forced them to get used to the bright light, streaming inside through the window. He sat up, his every instinct screaming at him to move and find Major but he halted when he realized the unnatural, strange weight on his right arm. He raised it up from the blanket and took a look at it.

 

His real arm was gone. He was staring at a prosthetic, a beautiful but cruel glint of metal almost blinding him. It looked like high-tech quality and he stared at the fine details of its design. Every knuckle and every tip of a finger seemed to be perfect.

 

He tried to move his hand but it only shook slightly and shot a wave of pain into Shiro's shoulder.

 

He tasted something disgusting in his mouth when he realized the state he was in. He wouldn't be able to fight with an arm like this.

 

The door opened and Shiro froze in place, only to relax slightly when he recognized the light hair of Lieutenant Ulaz. He was behind a young-looking nurse who immediately rushed to Shiro's side.

 

”You musn't stand up yet!” the nurse scolded him, grabbing him by the shoulders but she was too gentle — Shiro didn’t budge, only stared at Ulaz who was still standing stoically in the doorway.

 

”Lieutenant Colonel,” Shiro raised his hand and saluted the older man. Ulaz nodded at him briefly and Shiro took this as his permission to speak more. ”Please tell me, is Major alright?”

 

There was a quick flash of uncertainty in Ulaz's eyes before he replied. ”You should first worry about yourself, Shiro.”

 

”Lieutenant, please.” He didn’t try to hide the desperation in his tone. Meanwhile, the nurse was still urging him to lie down.

 

Ulaz finally stepped inside the room, stopping by Shiro's bed. ”Stay in bed and we will talk. You need to get your strength back.”

 

Shiro settled back in the bed as if his legs were burning from the urge to run wherever Keith could be. ”Please,” he pleaded one last time, feeling strangely small there, sitting on the white bed. Ulaz was a lot older and taller than him even though Shiro had always been taller than Keith. He was not a short bean by long shot but compared to Ulaz, he felt like it. The reason for that strange feeling was not their height difference though; he felt lost and worried, and the fact that Lieutenant was holding information from him wasn’t making him feel easier.

 

”Now,” Ulaz started with a calm voice.

 

The nurse excused herself to give them some privacy.

 

”How do you feel?” He briefly glanced at Shiro's arm.

 

Shiro swallowed a sigh and answered like he would report the outcome of invading the enemy's ground. ”Slightly nauseated but that must be due to the medicine. My new arm feels heavy so I assume it's going to take a while for me to get used to it. But I will try my best, sir.”

 

For a while, Ulaz looked like he was trying to hold a smile. ”At ease, soldier. You have slept for three days and I'm sure they will want to keep you here for at least two weeks more to ensure you get used to your arm. It's a very expensive prosthetic and extremely delicate so it can respond to every impulse your brain signals to your arm. But it's also strong and will bother you for a while. Especially at night. Taking it off is possible but I wouldn't recommend that before you have gotten used to it fully.”

 

Shiro looked at him, questioning.

 

”Doctor told me this of course,” Ulaz established.

 

”Did... did Major Keith pay for my arm? It must have been expensive.”

 

”Given how well you have served your country, I wouldn't be surprised if every higher officer financed it. But no, I did.”

 

”I can't thank you enough, Lieutenant, but I will try. Thank you.” Shiro took another glance at the arm, the way the sunlight from the open window hit its surface. It looked grotesque on him but there was also undeniable beauty in it; a complicated piece of art done by mere human hands. It would help him to stay by Keith, so Shiro was indeed eternally grateful. ”Thank you,” he repeated. ”Is there any way I can repay you?”

 

”By taking your time to learn to control it and let your body recover. It was a miracle that you didn't lose your other arm.”

 

Shiro then took a look at his left, bandaged arm. ”I assume it's broken?”

 

Ulaz nodded. ”By the elbow. It will take over a month to recover.”

 

Shiro tried to swallow the new information, hoping that he wouldn’t be a bother for anyone during that time; not the hospital and especially not Keith. But Keith couldn’t use him so it meant he already was. He raised his head then, looking at Ulaz intently. ”What about Major?”

 

Shiro had experienced many silent moments in his life, in the middle of a battle when one waited for their death; or following a stranger, dressed in dark, while you had to wait and see who they will take you to next.

 

None of those silent moments had been as long as the silence that fell between him and Ulaz.

 

Ulaz folded his arms before answering. ”Major Keith is fine. He asked me to visit you.”

 

Shiro didn’t break their stare. ”His injuries?”

 

”He's getting treated.”

 

Shiro's shoulders slumped and slowly he breathed, completely. Finally, he could _breathe_.

 

Ulaz seemed to consider saying more and in few seconds, he did. “There… appears to be something else.”

 

Shiro made a quick move to push himself off the bed. He saw Ulaz’s eyes widen before the Lt. Colonel’s hands grabbed his shoulders with much more force than the nurse had used on him. “Rest easy, Shiro. I meant you, not the Major.”

 

Shiro relaxed immediately, letting Ulaz push him back against the pillows.

  
  
“Me?”

  
  
“I take you have not yet looked at yourself in the mirror?”

 

Shiro tilted his head slightly in a questioning manner. He then saw Ulaz look around the modest hospital room, searching for something.

  
  
Lt. Colonel walked to the other side of the room, by the small table. He took a mirror from on top of it before returning back to Shiro’s side. Ulaz handed the mirror to him.

 

The mirror was cracked but even with its twisted reflection, Shiro saw enough to understand Ulaz’s words.

  
  
He had a long scar across his nose. Apparently, it had healed rather quickly since it wasn’t covered in bandages — the skin was elevated and ugly. But the scar wasn’t the change he focused on most. It was his hair.

  
  
His once natural dark-brown hair had turned completely white; even his military-styled undercut was shockingly blonde.

 

Shiro had never cared much about how he looked. He had no reason to and maybe he shouldn’t have cared now either.

  
  
He didn’t believe in God either. But this drastic change seemed like a blessing from the Lord Himself, a sign that he was worthy of his own name.

 

The only name he knew to be his own; the name Keith had given him years ago.

  
  
Shiro touched the white hairs on top of his head. He didn’t know if he imagined it, but the strands felt silky in a way he never knew his hair could feel.

  
  
Because of Keith, he was Shiro. Now, in every way. The realization made his heart beat like he was on the battleground again.

 

Ulaz must have sensed that he needed a moment. ”I'll ask the nurse to fetch you some water. You must be thirsty.”

 

Shiro nodded. Under the blanket, his left hand's fingers squeezed the sheets, paying no mind to the pain that it caused to flow through his whole arm. He placed the mirror beside him.

 

When Ulaz came back, he saw that Shiro had dozed off, his white bangs covering his eyes. The nurse arrived soon with a glass of water and sighed softly.

 

”Poor boy,” she said with a sympathetic tone.

 

Ulaz stared at Shiro's injured figure, the child soldier looking the most vulnerable he had ever seen him. His lips formed a sad smile. ”Yes.”

  
  
  
  


 

 

Lt. Colonel told Shiro that the war was over. They had won.

 

After that, the days passed slowly. Like a moving ship one would stare at just because they weren’t in a hurry to go anywhere; even if one didn’t know the name of the ship nor the passengers in it, not even its destination.

 

Ulaz visited him every third day, sometimes every second day. He didn’t share a lot of information about the army with Shiro, claiming that it could have only caused him unnecessary stress. Ulaz must have been passive in his answers to Shiro's questions about Major because of that same reason as well.

 

So Shiro spent his time looking at nature from the window and visiting outside whenever his arm or shoulder didn’t hurt too much. It was almost strange to see the trees and the green fields without smoke or armed troops surrounding them

 

_So I guess this is what peace means._

 

He read a few books that the doctor let him borrow.

 

When a week passed, he started to train his right arm with the doctor's help. It ached and felt out of place, no matter how many times the doctor told him that fumbling was normal at first. After he had trained enough to grab a mug without dropping it immediately, one night his gaze was locked on the piece of paper in the desk near him. He stared at it until his eyelids fell closed, remembering the way Keith had sat by his long table and signed contracts. But more than that, he had read letters from his fellow high officers, his mother or his brother. He had always told Shiro who the letter was from, not because Shiro asked but because he always noticed Shiro staring at him. It had been almost like a ritual for them, no matter where they were, in a tent — ready for a battle in the following morning — at home or visiting someone. Of course, Shiro never read them, the letters were private. But he enjoyed seeing the concentrated look on Keith's face. He had even sometimes smiled if the letter was from his mother. More than that, he loved to hear and watch Keith write. His hands were quick and elegant as he used the typewriter or even when he wrote the letters with a pen.

 

It was thanks to Keith that Shiro knew how to write and read too. After all, he couldn't have served Keith completely if he was unable to understand reports and make them on his own.

  
  
Shiro could almost hear Keith's typing as the dreams claimed him and he fell asleep.

  
  
  
  


 

 

 

 

Next morning, he asked for a pen from the nurse. She seemed surprised but pleased at Shiro's attempt to train his arm in a new way.

 

A tray was brought to him so he was able to write in bed, which was for the best, given his still weak state. Shiro had rarely been this aware of his body's immortality — the healing was taking its time and his impatience was understandable since he had never been this injured before.

 

He took a good, though a very unnatural-looking grip on the pen and started to write slowly. The slower he went, the less wobbly the letters ended up to be.

 

_"Dear Major. I hope you are well and your injuries have healed. If not, I hope you are resting enough. I wouldn't want you to exhaust yourself; your mother would most certainly have a heart-attack if you fainted."_

 

Shiro paused, realizing his bold manner of speech but he supposed it was not a formal letter anyway.

 

 _"_ _This is my 10th day in the hospital. I am recovering quicker than I thought. My arm, which Lt. Colonel Ulaz must have told you about, is working very well. I only need some more time to get used to it. At least, that is the doctor's opinion, not mine. I' am ready to return to your side. Please. Let me return to your side. I"_

 

His writing was suddenly interrupted by the slight "crack" the pen let out. Shiro frowned, a bit confused, and released his grip. The pen crumbled into three pieces on his cover, broken because of the force of his grasp.

 

Shiro frowned at his hand like it was a small bug he wanted to squish. He supposed he could use this strength in the battle but right now it was only another obstacle in the way of him getting back to his normal life. He gathered the pieces of pen carefully into his palm as the wind from an open window tickled his ears and hair.  From the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of white and slapped his hand onto the tray, only to see his unfinished letter already flying in the air and out of the window. He let out a soft sound, trying to catch it with his right hand and he would had, but just as his fingers graced the paper, irrational part of him let it go. He was sure it would easily crumble into a ball of trash in his grip.

 

Somehow, because it was for Keith, he’d rather watch it fly away than ruin it.

 

He looked as the wind took it across the field and into the mix of green and blue horizon until he saw it no more.

  
  
  
  


 

 

 

Next day, Ulaz came to visit him again and saw the papers and pen on his table.

 

"Have you been writing?"

 

"Yes, sir. I had an urge."

 

Ulaz had a small smile on his face. "I'm glad you're keeping yourself occupied. I’m sure you will be in control of your arm in no time."

 

Shiro tried to push away the memory of a broken pen. "I hope so."

 

"The doctor told me they will be releasing you in three days. Only under the condition that you won't overwork yourself."

 

"Will I be sent to the post where Major is?"

 

Ulaz paused, clearly swallowing the words he was about to say. He sat down on the chair by Shiro's bed. "We should discuss that. Before that, here." He put a paper bag on the small table. "I bought waffles from the store nearby. Tried a few of myself, they are delicious."

 

Shiro gave him a polite but brief smile. "Thank you, I appreciate it. If I eat one, will you tell me about Major's orders?"

 

Ulaz shook his head at him, an impressed look on his face.

 

"Sir," Shiro added for a good measure.

 

Ulaz reached for the bag and gave it to him. The smell coming from the bag was indeed divine so Shiro dug out the biggest waffle and took a slow bite.

 

"It's good," he confirmed after swallowing the first piece. "Delicious."

 

"I didn't think I'd have to bribe you to try it but I'm glad." Ulaz took a better position on the chair and his usually calm face twitched before he decided to speak. "The war is over so Major won't be needing your services anymore."

 

Shiro's shoulders jerked like he had been electrocuted and there was a sound like someone stepping on cookies with heavy boots. Ulaz's eyes widened a fraction when he saw the crumbles of the waffle in Shiro's hand, almost ready to use as a powder for a cake. Shiro stayed silent and waited for Ulaz to continue, frozen in place.

 

"Major’s wish is for you to live your life peacefully from now on," Ulaz explained with a soothing voice, taking the paper bag from Shiro's lap. "Those are, in fact, his orders."

 

Shiro opened his mouth but no words came out. Ulaz gave him a sympathetic look.

 

"I know this must be difficult for you, Shiro. But you should respect Keith and yourself enough to follow this order."

 

“Order…” Shiro repeated the word softly.

 

“I understand that it’s a lot to address. I waited to tell you until you have gotten most of your strength back. “

 

Shiro glanced at his left arm. According to the doctor, it was healing exceptionally fast and would continue to do so as long as Shiro remembered to let it rest. His right arm was also functioning better, even if he still hadn’t fully learned how to grasp objects without breaking or dropping them. He had made significant progress.

 

_For what exactly?_

 

Shiro pinched his eyes shut and commanded that faint whisper in his mind to disappear.

 

“Understood, sir,” he finally said.

  
  
  


 

 

 

 

Three days passed and he found himself unable to finish his letter to Keith.

 

He felt relieved to be leaving the hospital but finding out his destination wasn’t going to be where Keith was brought anxiety into his heart. It was different kind of anxiety than the one he had felt throughout the years of changing obligations and battles — it felt like a slow stab that patiently created and opened a wound in his chest more and more. The more the wound grew, more restless and desperate he felt. The anxiety didn’t really regard his future; it was about Keith. But Keith was safe and it was Shiro’s duty to follow his orders, so he didn’t exactly understand where the problem lay.

 

_There was a tear that rolled down Keith’s marked cheek. His purple eyes were pained, an emotion Shiro never wanted to see in that beautiful gaze._

  
  
_“Shiro… You need to know…”_

  
  
Shiro bit his lip. The nurse touched his shoulder, waking him from the depths of his thoughts.

 

“Mr. Ulaz is waiting for you outside,” she told him kindly. “I will bring your belongings in a moment.”

  
  
Shiro blinked at the word ‘belongings’ but only nodded at the nurse, saying his thanks, before heading down the stairs towards the main door.  Luckily, his legs worked fine and they had gained all their strength during the last thirteen days. His steps were quick and practiced. He flexed his prosthetic fingers before pushing the door open.

 

As the nurse had said, Ulaz was there waiting, his car ready. He raised his gaze from his pocket-watch and came to greet Shiro with a firm handshake. His expression was gentle, careful.

 

“I’m glad to see you, Shiro. I talked with your doctor already. Are you ready?”

 

Shiro nodded surely even when his heart didn’t agree on being calm. “I’m ready, sir. Can I ask where we are going?”

 

“We can speak in peace in the car, I will explain everything on our way.”

 

Shiro wasn’t sure if Ulaz was actually reluctant to tell him what would happen from now on or if the matter was indeed too sensitive to discuss out in the daylight.

 

“Excuse me!” Shiro heard the nurse’s familiar voice. She was carrying a simple small luggage in her arms which she laid down on the ground in front of Shiro. “It’s very unfortunate that your belongings were mistakenly delivered to an army base far away. I apologize. But at least we received them just in time for your release…”

 

The nurse kept chatting idly but Shiro could only focus on finding the one object that had been on his mind over a week. His fingers itched to grab it from under the useless old clothes, but when he only felt and saw the bottom of the luggage, he couldn’t stop himself from swallowing heavily.

 

He glanced at the nurse. “There’s no need to apologize, it was not your fault. Thank you. But miss— are you sure this is all?”

 

“Yes, this is all that was delivered for you.”

 

Shiro hesitated only for a second before speaking again. “There wasn’t a brooch anywhere? Violet-colored?”

 

“No?” The nurse only looked confused. “This is everything that was found where you were.”

 

“Is something the matter?” Ulaz asked from behind Shiro’s shoulder, eyeing at the luggage.

 

Shiro’s heartbeat was frantic as he shortly bowed at Ulaz. “I’m sorry, sir, but I must go find the violet brooch.”

 

“Your missing object?”

 

“Yes.” He didn’t expect Ulaz to understand. “It was a gift.”

 

Ulaz seemed to be at a loss for words before he shook his head. “I understand that it was important to you, but objects are always replaceable. I will gladly pay for a new one and—”

  
  
The anxiety raised its head, biting a hole inside Shiro’s chest. That kind of hollow pain and panic made him interrupt Ulaz’s words with a stubborn, almost childish tone.

 

“It was an important gift!” he blurted out, his right hand grabbing Ulaz’s wrist, shaking it slightly. “It was from Major.” he said, this time more softly.

 

Ulaz was silent for a while and Shiro wondered how just one object was enough for him to break the proper etiquette between a lieutenant and a mere soldier.

 

He was surprised to feel gentle fingers on his hand. Ulaz carefully patted his hand, like a caress, before pulling his wrist from Shiro’s grasp. “I understand.”

  
  
Shiro looked him in the eyes, exhaling slowly.

 

“How about this — I promise to look for it later. But now we need to go; I took it upon myself to overlook your departure from the hospital.” Ulaz’s reassuring smile made it easier for Shiro to reconsider his urge to run and find the brooch.

 

As if he had any other choice but to listen to the Lieutenant anyway.

 

“I… Thank you, Lt. Colonel.”

  
  
  
  


 

 

 

Shiro had only met the Lt. Colonel twice before the last battle. He had been taught to exchange pleasantries with his allies and upper officers since the day he was also introduced to the machine gun. But with Ulaz, he didn’t feel a constant urge to fill the silence with mindless chatter, especially after his visits to the hospital. Shiro felt surprisingly calm in his company. It could have been traces of trust or merely comfort being with the commanding officer.

 

Despite the long drive, Ulaz didn’t try to talk with him either and for that Shiro was grateful. He mimicked the Lieutenant and watched the passing view from the window. It was the end of the Spring, the time when leaves were still painted in light green instead of the dark verdant of mid-Summer. The fields were full of yellow and white flowers, the perfect contrast to the mix of black, grey and blood-red – the color scheme Shiro was more used to. But he also knew of the days filled with warm colors like the dark brown of the Kogane Household’s walls, the Major’s violet eyes and the faint blue of the river in the house’s backyard. Shiro knew he had no right to miss a place, but if he could, he would miss that. Keith’s home. If he could choose, he would stay there much rather than traveling on planes, trains and sleeping in tents.

 

“ _...from the bottom of my heart.”_

  
  
“Lt. Colonel?”

 

He saw Ulaz flinch like he had just been awoken from the dream.

 

“I’m sorry,” Shiro said quietly, flashing him an apologetic smile.

 

“It’s alright, I was just deep in my thoughts. What is on your mind, Shiro?”

 

“Is Major Keith surely alright?”

 

One could never read the louder emotions from Ulaz’s face but Shiro had been trained to understand people and what they wanted to hear. Ulaz didn’t seem like he wanted to hear Shiro question him again.

 

Normally Shiro wouldn’t have.

 

“Keith is alright, I’m sure of it.” There were no signs of lie in Ulaz’s eyes. Shiro didn’t even understand why he would think so in the first place. But he didn’t seem entirely sincere either. His expression was like a smile on a doll who tried to look innocent even though it knew something its owner’s parents did in secret.

 

Shiro knew that he had to let it be.

 

“I’m glad,” he said, before shifting his gaze back to the window.

 

“It’s natural to worry. Major Keith worried about you in the same way too. And when you think about where I am taking you, it makes me believe he knew you very well too.”

 

Shiro looked back at Ulaz and saw the corners of the Lieutenant’s mouth twitch when he cocked his head in question.

 

“Major Keith always thought about what would happen to you after the war. At first, he imagined you living a quiet, average life, taken care of by his close relatives.”

 

Shiro’s heart was stopping and it pushed the urgent words out of his mouth before he even realized it: “I can still be useful! With proper training, I can use my arm just fine! And my left arm will heal soon, I’m sure of it! Major Keith can still use me!”

 

“For what?”

 

Shiro closed his mouth and his body shivered at the words. It sounded like a curse to him, like a physical attack; and at the same time much worse.

 

“For what exactly?” Ulaz repeated his words now that he had Shiro’s attention. His voice was firm. “The war is over and Major Keith will be transferred to other duties, mainly paperwork and meetings because the bureaucracy never ends. And he knows, just like you and I do, that he can’t use you for any of that.”

 

“I can learn—”

 

“He can’t use you nor does he need your help because these are matters that he needs to do on his own. Alone.”

 

Since the day he was born, Shiro had always thought that every time his duties and his commander or master changed, his life began again. He was a new person — or perhaps a ghost was more suitable word for him. He never had a name before Keith. Before that, he had always been a cleaner number 9, sniper number 1 or assassin number 2. To him and everyone else, those were only names for ghosts; ones who had already passed away even though you could see them.

 

When he was given to Keith, he didn’t only start anew — he abandoned all of his ghost-selves. He became something more.

 

Now the ground was disappearing under his feet again.

 

There was an irrational, selfish spark inside of his heart. He didn’t want to start over again. He wanted to stay with Shiro.

 

He placed his hands on his knees, feeling how they were shaking. He couldn’t look at the Lieutenant anymore, but instead his gaze sunk to the floor of the car. “Then toss me away.”

 

His words were met with deafening silence.

  
  
“If I’m no use to Major then you can toss me aside. I don’t care where.”

  
  
He heard Ulaz make a faint sound was similar to a chuckle. Shiro raised his head, his throat burning from unspoken emotion. Was Ulaz laughing at him?

 

“You didn’t let me finish, Shiro.” Ulaz said and coughed to cover indeed another chuckle. “Always in a hurry...”

 

Shiro merely blinked in response.

 

“Major Keith _thought_ a peaceful life would suit you. But he knew better. I suppose he imagined your reaction would be just like this. He never wanted to toss you aside because your worth isn’t based on his need to use you.”

 

“I do not understand.”

  
  
“What I am trying to imply is that, at the moment, you could be useful _to me._ ”

 

The car hit a bump on the road, almost making Shiro sway on his seat, mirroring quite well the storming of thoughts in his head because of Ulaz’s words.

 

“You could use me, Lieutenant?”

 

“Actually, now is a more suitable time to tell you to not call me Lieutenant anymore. Right now, you can call me Mr. Ulaz and maybe, depending on your answer to my next question,  President Ulaz.” _Former_ Lt. Colonel took off his glove and offered his bare hand to Shiro, a peculiar gesture towards just a lowly soldier like him.

 

Shiro hesitated, his gaze jumping from Ulaz’s hand to his face. After several encouraging nods, he grasped it with his own and shook it slightly.

 

“Mr. Ulaz?”

 

“Shiro, would you do me the honor and come work for me in my company, Marmora Postal?”

 

He swiftly handed Shiro a business card. The letters were beautifully designed, given the small size of the card, and under the company’s title, Shiro recognized Ulaz’s name.

 

“You are... no longer a Lieutenant then?”

 

“I chose differently. I chose to not be tossed aside.” Ulaz gave Shiro a clap on the shoulder, reminding him of the way Keith touched his shoulder on almost every occasion, but instead of a clap, it was always more of a caress. “How about you?”

  
  
Shiro never had had a chance to make a choice and now that he had, he didn’t know what he was supposed to do. Keith didn’t need him anymore and it was his wish that Shiro would stay with Ulaz. Wasn’t that an answer enough?

 

Ulaz inspected Shiro, understanding him through his silence. “That was graceless of me. I’m trying to hire you and you haven’t even seen my company yet. You can make the decision after we have reached our destination.” His shoulders relaxed and he took a more comfortable position against the seat. “Have you ever been to Daibazaal?”

  
  
Daibazaal was the most northern city in the country of Monument, not as populated and cultural as the capital city Altea but significant for the marine transportation thanks to its location.

  
  
“In a literal sense, I have not.”

 

Ulaz looked at him funnily.

 

“In theory, I have, because Major and other officers talk about it all the time. I feel like I know it better than Altea.”

 

Ulaz’s face twitched like he didn’t know how to react. “You can joke.”

 

“Of course I can? But that wasn’t a joke, it was a mere truth.”

 

The Lt. Colonel shook his head, as if in wonder, before closing his eyes. He stayed silent for the rest of the ride and Shiro settled to drown his vision in the greenery passing by.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Two hours passed and Ulaz dozed for the most of it which Shiro didn’t mind. He didn’t even snore; something that Keith had done a lot and Shiro always thought it was because of his unhealthy lifestyle. Ulaz, on the other hand, seemed calm, content — something a soldier should ideally be after the war’s end. Shiro hopes that Keith, where-ever he is, feels the same.

 

During another hour, Ulaz offered him a croissant, seemingly horrified that Shiro couldn’t decide which he wanted, almond or chocolate kind.

 

“Whichever is fine with me.”

 

“Let’s imagine this is a matter of life and death. Choose.” Ulaz frowned while Shiro was puzzled why it was such an important thing to him.

 

“Alright. Almond.”

 

“Excellent! There you go.” Ulaz handed him the croissant, a touch too happy about it. “Why almond?”

 

“It’s healthier.”

 

Ulaz didn’t seem satisfied with his answer.

 

It was hard to mistake the Daibazaal from any other city. From the car’s window, Shiro spotted the famous tourist attraction, the black tower which was almost 200 meters high. Right after that he saw tens of sails and heard the sound of seagulls through the glass. He could almost smell the sea, something he hadn’t experienced in years.

 

“Does it look like you knew in theory?” There was a sly tint in Ulaz’s voice.

 

“Yes but also no.” It was better. Like a waterfall after dehydration.

  
  
Shiro hadn’t gotten quite used to it yet. The lack of danger.

 

The streets were crowded. Afternoon rush was just settling in and Shiro watched as both high, middle and low class swarmed next to each other. The view was quite different from Altea which design and citizen were much more... organized. It was a detail that Shiro had paid close attention to over the two years he was with Keith because it was something the Major had said bothered him immensely. He had told Shiro many times how he someday wanted to move to the countryside or at least somewhere that didn't have such a strict organization with its people and street-view.

 

“Here,” Ulaz said, drawing Shiro’s attention away from the window. He had a pair of black, thin leather gloves in his right hand. “I’m not asking you to cover your prosthesis but I thought wearing gloves — or a glove, it’s your choice — could make you feel more comfortable.”

 

Shiro took the gloves, appreciating Ulaz’s gesture. He saw a stylish detail on the outer side of the gloves — the zipper was long enough to reach the second knuckle of the pinkie. Carefully, he slipped the glove on his prosthesis. It fit him perfectly.

 

“Thank you, Mr. Ulaz. Thank you so much,” nodded at the former Lieutenant, smiling.

 

“Does it feel right?”

 

“It feels helpful,” Shiro said sincerely.

 

“Ah,” Ulaz sighed, a beginning of a chuckle. He chose to not comment when Shiro didn’t put the left glove on.

 

The car left them in front of a beautiful building, humble in size -- only three floors — but massive in the way it's bronze walls reflected the sun's rays and the white marble framed the front doors and large windows.

 

"Welcome to Marmora Postal Office," Ulaz said ceremonially, his eyes bright with something that couldn't be mistaken from anything else but pride. "Do you want to see how it looks inside?" he asked politely but was already leading Shiro inside. Shiro didn't mind at all, though.

 

Behind the grand doors was a loud chatter of employees, row of papers and moving chairs, accompanied by the smell of ink. It looked like a chaos, almost, but the people were smiling like there was an order of things that Shiro couldn't see.

 

“The first floor is for the reception,” Ulaz explained as they walked through the main hall. When they reached the stairs, he continued, “Office and the writing department are on the second floor.”

 

“Writing?”

 

The former Lieutenant gave him a side-eyed glance. “If you were a dog, your ears would have perked just now. Yes, writing. There are still many who don’t know how to write and especially now that is a valuable skill. We are living a transition time in our country and sometimes it’s easier to put words in a paper than speak them out loud. It adds a different kind of meaning.”

 

Shiro nodded. He was about to say more but as soon as they reached the second floor, a young man, probably only a few years older than Shiro, dashed from around the corner. It would have reminded Shiro of an ambush if the boy hadn’t looked so comically frustrated, his hair askew and collar rumpled. He stopped in right in front of Ulaz, inhaling and exhaling once. Twice.

 

“Tell that charlady that if she keeps messing up the letters’ triage, you will fire her, alright?”The boy even has enough nerve to poke his finger against Ulaz’s chest. “I’m _done_ with her and her bulls-.”

 

“Lance, what have I told you about the proper etiquette between an employer and the president of the company?” Ulaz says with an impressively calm tone. He firmly pulled the boy’s finger away from himself.

 

“Are you actually implying you could find anyone as skilled of sorting the letters as I? Because that,” he glanced at Shiro fleetingly. “would not only mean you bring a cult member with you but also that  the countryside has mellowed your brain.”

 

Cult member? Shiro scratched the back of his head. He must have looked too strange with his new white hair. He wasn’t entirely sure how to respond to such rude comment so he used the same tactic he did with Keith’s older brother, Lotor — he pretended to be a statue that could be mocked without any consequences.

 

“Lance,” Ulaz said under his breath. “I see I also have to teach you how to talk to your co-workers.”

 

Lance visibly swallowed his next words and properly looked at Shiro. “Excuse me, President?”

 

“You heard me. When you are not complaining about our lovely cleaning lady, you moan about how your job is too much for one person. If I consult her about your problem and Shiro comes to work with you, then I sincerely hope you settle on just greeting me daily instead of… this.”

 

Lance sputtered like he had lost the ability to speak. His gaze shifted from Ulaz to Shiro. He didn't quite have a blush on his face but splotches of red appeared on the apple of his cheeks.

 

"Shiro, this is Lance. He sorts the letters and delivers them to their destined address. Lance, this is Shiro Kogane."

 

Suddenly Lance disappeared. Everything vanished from Shiro's head and vision for a few seconds and only those two words Ulaz had said, swam in his mind in a frantic dance.

 

Kogane was Keith's last name.

 

Shiro hesitantly turned to look at Ulaz only to find him gazing at Shiro in a soft manner. There was no pity but apprehension. Shiro saw him mouth "it’s okay" and in response, he shook his head. His throat felt too tight so he didn't speak.

 

"Ah— um," Lance said before straightening his back, the heels of his boots clicking against the floor. He muttered out, "I'm sorry."

 

"He's a got a bit of a temper," Ulaz voiced out loud the obvious.

 

"I know a few with a temper," Shiro replied.  He decided to leave questioning Ulaz about the name later and offered his right hand to Lance and flashed him his best nice-to-meet-you-smile. "It's alright, it is frustrating when things don't stay in order."

 

Lance stared at his hand like it was something smelly. Then he smiled back, self-consciously. "Still, I'm sorry. Your hair is... perky. Like an elderly after their second cup of coffee in the morning.."

 

Ulaz grunted.

 

"I mean..." Lance grasped his hand. Now he was indeed blushing. "Nice to meet you."

 

Something about him felt very familiar to Shiro. Gruff outside but something else inside.

 

“I’m glad to meet Lance, but Mr. Ulaz…” he said. “...I never told you my answer.”

 

Ulaz’s jaw dropped slightly — a peculiar expression for him to have on his face. “I— My apologies, Shiro. I got ahead of myself.”

 

“President, are you flustered?” Lance squinted at him.

 

“Be quiet for a moment, Lance.” Ulaz coughed awkwardly. “I suppose I was too excited. I didn’t mean to seem pushy.”

 

“It’s alright.” And it was. But the change of the topic made him gaze down at his feet.

 

He was broken but he knew he could be useful despite it. He was used to pushing himself to the limit and past it.

 

So it wasn't his physical state that was holding him back.

 

It was his choice. And that was where the problem lay.

 

"You said that Major Keith wanted this?"

 

"Yes."

 

"It was an order?"

 

Ulaz opened his mouth then closed it. There must have been something on Shiro's face, something that made him change his words. "Would you like it to be an order?" he asked.

 

Shiro didn't know. So instead he answered, "I'll do whatever Major wants."

 

A deep frown marred Ulaz's forehead.

 

"Keith isn't in a position to order you anymore. He left you to me. So take it as an order from me."

 

Shiro saw Lance look at them funnily, unable to mask his confusion.

 

This was the kind of language Shiro could understand; the kind of world he had always lived in.

 

"Then my answer is yes."

  
  
  


 

 

 

From the moment Lance asked him to take off his glove so he could work with his hands properly and saw the shining prosthesis, his eyes didn't leave Shiro. Shiro's was mostly facing him as he changed into his new uniform but he could feel the blue gaze shooting invisible arrows into the back of his neck.

 

"How old are you anyway?" he asked.

 

"Seventeen."

 

"Wha—" was the only comprehensive word Shiro understood before Lance started to sputter for the fourth time that day. "You're not. You can't be."

 

"I am."

 

"Someone that big can't be so young. I'm two years older than you!"

 

Shiro turned around, his uniform properly in place. He tilted his neck slightly, confused why Lance didn't believe him.

 

The brunette stared at him for a few seconds and then muttered softly, "Actually, never mind. Weird fellow…” He raised his chin at Shiro’s pants. “Those a bit too small.”

 

“It’s alright, I don’t mind.”

 

“You should. You look more than a bit ridiculous.”

 

Looking ridiculous sounded like the smallest problem Shiro had ever had in his life. “It’s fine,” he assured with a smile.

 

Lance narrowed his eyes at his reply. “Fine.” The sound of his boots echoed in the empty room as he fetched a piece of paper from the wide table. He gave it to Shiro. “Here’s introductions. Sort the letters. There’s a big pile of them.” A smirk played on his lips. “If you can’t do that, you are going to get fired.”

 

Shiro nodded dutifully. Simple enough.

 

“Are you sure you can work with your hands? Ulaz told me you broke your elbow too.”

“Of course.”

 

Lance shrugged. “You can spend your break on the second floor. I’m going to deliver these.” He lifted a large bag on his shoulder as if it weighted nothing. “Good luck.”

 

Then Shiro was alone. After the long drive and seeing Daibazaal for the first time, he couldn’t say he didn’t enjoy the piece of silence.

 

He flexed his left hand’s fingers experimentally then the prosthesis’ metallic diggets. He felt far from his normal self but it wouldn’t bother him if he didn’t let it.

 

Move. Breathe.

 

When he placed the first letter into its right locker on the shelf, he forced himself to believe that he felt a bit more confident.

  
  
  
  
  


How was it possible that a man with such a strong jaw, broad shoulders and _height,_ not to mention the prosthesis and scars all over his body, could only be a seventeen-year-old kid?

 

He smiled in that same fake fashion every adult did; a habit Lance hadn’t been able to get used to yet. It didn’t fit with the way he had stared at Lance with a confused gaze like an abandoned mutt.

 

He hoped, prayed that the kid wouldn’t cause more trouble for him.

 

In hopes to see Ms. Allura, he stood in the main hall after his delivery round for a bit longer than it was allowed. He gave up eventually and went back to his office to judge Shiro’s work.

 

The problem, as he soon found out, was that there wasn’t anything to judge. The office had never been in better order and the massive pile of letters had disappeared — neatly organized into the shelf.

 

“What?” he said with a groan as he had just woken from a dream.

 

Shiro turned to greet him. “Welcome back.”

 

“How did you— How?”

 

“You told me to sort them and I did.” There it was again, the tilt of a head.

 

“I didn’t mean all of them! Did you even have a lunch-break?”

 

“No. I wasn’t hungry.” Shiro seemed slightly sheepish of his fussing. “And you clearly said I would get fired if I couldn’t do it.”

 

“It was a joke.”

 

Shiro chuckled lowly but it sounded very, very awkward. “Oh. I’m sorry, I didn’t understand. Sometimes jokes fly right over my head.”

 

Lance examined the shelf. There was no dust on it. “You cleaned it too?”

 

“I did so the cleaning lady wouldn’t have to. Since you told Mr. Ulaz she muddled the letters’ order.”

 

Lance’s shoulders slumped as he stood there, in wonderment. “Wow,” he simply said with a sigh.

 

“Thank you,” Shiro’s polite voice answered.

 

“How would you feel about delivering the mail?” The corners of Lance’s mouth switched. “You seem to be an expert on sorting already.”

 

“If you think that’s for the best.” Shiro straightened his collar and eyed at the bag Lance was keeping on his shoulder. “Should I use that or do you have another?”

 

Lance nodded. Shiro took the bag and started to pile the letters with gentle fingers…

 

...right into the bag.

 

Lance snatched it back. “ _Not now!”_

 

“Oh?” Shiro blinked, dropping the letters onto the table.

 

“Work-day is over. Tomorrow. Understood?” Intentionally Lance spoke in short sentences and in a firm voice. It seemed like this kid needed that method a lot.

 

“Understood,” Shiro nodded swiftly and saluted. Lance’s expression must have been priceless because he hesitated right after, lowering his hand and hiding it behind his back. “I’m sorry. That was an old habit.”

 

Lance decided to not comment on it. “Anyway, remember to have your lunch-break. If you don’t, it’s me who is going to get in trouble for it.”

“Oh?”

 

They both turned their heads towards the door. It was Ulaz, peeking in with a disappointed expression on his face.

 

“Shiro didn’t have his lunch-break?”

 

“It was not my fault, I was delivering the mail as a postman should, President,” Lance hurried to say.

 

“I know that, Lance. Be at ease.”

 

Lance listened and snapped his mouth shut like a frog after catching its prey. He followed how Ulaz stepped inside and tapped Shiro’s bicep familiarly. He wasn’t angry but displeased.

 

“Remember to hold onto your breaks, Shiro. You have just been released from hospital.”

 

Shiro seemed to hesitate, Lance could see it in the way his shoulders tensed before relaxing. “I understand.”

 

Ulaz seemed to have plausible authority over Shiro. There was no need for him to even raise his voice to be heard.

 

“Are your arms hurting?”

 

“Not at all.”

 

A lie. Anyone who hadn’t been born yesterday could have seen it through Shiro’s smile.

 

“Remember to stay cautious of them,” Ulaz answered, smiling back despite the obvious lie. “Lance, do you want to join me and Shiro for a dinner.”

 

Lance’s stomach would have said yes but he was positive he had received enough weirdness for one day. “Maybe another time. I have business to attend to.”

 

“Please assure me you are not going write a song for Allura again.”

 

“Why would I? And what do you mean ‘again’?,” Lance snapped, his face getting warm like a heater.

 

“Allura told me.”

 

“Yes, I suppose she tells you everything.” Lance unbuttoned the top of his dress-shirt and stomped past Ulaz and Shiro. “Have a nice dinner, President, Shiro.”

 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Lance,” Shiro said.

 

Lance pause before waving a hand over his shoulder. “Yes. I guess you will.”

  
  
  
  


 

 

 

He didn’t feel entirely comfortable that Ulaz offered him a dinner. With Major, he was used to it.

 

“Consider it as your first salary,” Ulaz assured him, pushing a plate of fried crawfish and dill-seasoned potatoes in front of him.

 

Shiro understood his logic so he ate the food, which was indeed delicious, but the bitter taste of high price stayed in his mouth long after.

 

He had gotten too used to dry bread and beans on the battlefield.

 

As they walked along the street back to the Marmora Postal — where Ulaz also lived and therefore so did Shiro for now — he watched the streetlights flicker against the dark. Their glow was cold white, the one Shiro didn’t prefer. It reminded him too much of flashlights, hitting trees’ branches, blinding the face of a human.

 

He did like the lights of a marketplace. The mix of yellow, red, orange. The glimmer of purple when he laid his eyes on the amethyst brooch.

 

Shiro stopped, almost without noticing it and touched his chest, the place where the brooch would have been if it was still with him. If Keith was still with him.

 

When the memory of the blood and tears of a man who had given Shiro his all emerged in the front of his brain, Shiro wrapped himself in black. He shielded his eyes against the harsh light and tried to breathe evenly.

 

Keith was alright. He would never forget how he looked against the stone wall, covered in blood, but he was safe. Alive.

 

Slowly, he opened his eyes. He realized that Ulaz was silently watching him. Shiro attempted to explain, apologize, but Ulaz opened his mouth first.

 

“Do you mind if I ask you what Major Keith said to you? What was his last order?”

 

“He told me to live. Live freely,” Shiro answered. He stared at the hem of his brown jacket.

"That's not a simple order," Ulaz said. "It might be the most arduous you have ever been given." He put his hands inside his pockets and Shiro followed his steps once again. "You've never known life outside the battlefield — what it is like to live without someone's shadow of authority cast over you. From now on every day is going to be a new lesson for you." He paused both his speech and walk. Only when he was looking behind him, at Shiro, did he continue. "But maybe it would be more merciful if you don’t learn to live freely."

 

Shiro had been used to harsh words but Ulaz's tone sounded so distressed that it alone made him perplexed.

  
  
"You don't realize it yet but you are burning."

 

Shiro's instincts forced him to look down at his body even as his brain was mocking him for being silly; there was no fire near him.  
  
"I don't understand," he said. He tried to not shy away from Ulaz's gaze. He couldn't help the shiver it sent through his very bones. "I'm not burning."

 

"Yes, you are. Your body is burning up from the things you have done."

 

"I'm sorry but you're not making sense," Shiro said with a careful edge in his voice. "I'm completely fine. I'm not burning."

 

Ulaz seemed to be lost in his own thoughts for a few seconds.

 

"Long ago I saw you," he said, with that similar sadness. "I saw the fire catch you but I chose to not act. I did nothing. That's why I'm trying to make amends now."

 

Shiro didn't speak — he could only stare in confusion as Ulaz seemed to share a vague memory that only he knew.

 

The president turned around and slowly his tense shoulders relaxed as if looking away from Shiro made him calmer. "One day you will understand. You will understand how much your scars are burning."

 

It was clear that he wasn't talking about wounds that still hurt. Unfortunately, Shiro could only understand what he didn't mean, not what he was trying to get across.

 

Ulaz didn't elaborate his strange words, instead, he let them both settle for the silence except for the sounds of cars and laughing people leaving restaurants.

  
  
  
  


 

 

 

Tranquil was the last emotion Shiro was feeling when he sat in his new room, on his new bed. The room was simple and clean, decorated with one large desk, a closet and a small drawer beside the bed.

 

Was this the burning Ulaz had talked about? Shiro wouldn't have described it as feeling burnt — instead, his feet were restless and his lungs didn't seem to get enough air.

 

He eyed at the open window and inhaled the fresh night air. The breeze was tempting him, whispering to his uneasy mind.  
  
He knew he should press his head against the pillow and beg for the sleep to claim him but it was past midnight and the day had been overwhelming, to say the least — it didn't take him long to stand up and smoothly hop on the window sill.

 

He graced the roof tiles with his right hand, testing. Like with everything else, he couldn’t feel the tile, not even the temperature coming from it.

  
With graceful, considered moves, he stepped on the tiles with his bare feet, supporting his upper body with his right hand while the left one grabbed the small upper ledge. He climbed on it and sat down. Some of his restlessness fainted immediately as he saw the never-ending view of the dark sky. Only a few stars were visible to naked eye, unlike the magnificent show of twinkling lights on the sky above forest or mountains, but the big city was quieter than he had thought. He breathed deeply and let his prosthetic fingers squeeze the tiles under his palm, but not enough to break it - he was learning bit by bit to control his new limb.

  
His mind was still swirling from Ulaz’s words. The former Lieutenant couldn’t have referred to his prosthetic -- it seemed to consider something that was more symbolic. Frankly, Shiro didn’t care much for symbolism since it applied to every person’s  words differently. In war, he had learned to say things straight as they were meant to be said.

 

Sometimes his heart ached for different reasons. When he looked at Keith. When he woke up to screams of the battlefield, only to discover those noises only came from his dreams.

 

Shiro looked at his hands; scarred knuckles, rough fingertips, polished digits that didn’t look or feel like his own but belonged to him anyway.

 

He wasn’t burning.

 

He would certainly know if he was.

  
  
  
  


“Excuse me?”

 

Shiro turned his head towards the voice.

 

He had woken up several hours before his work shift that morning to clean the windows of the first floor. The sun had barely peeked from the horizon but now it was shining brightly, almost in its usual place up in the sky.

 

Shiro wiped his hand on his pants before hopping down from the bench. His right arm moved to greet the man by saluting him but corrected himself with a subtle, brief bow.

 

“Good morning. How can I help you?”

 

“I’m looking for…” The man seemed to hesitate. He looked troubled but hid it well with a polite smile. His clothes were neat but on his head, he had a worn-out hat. He took it off when he saw Shiro glance at it. “I’m looking for Ms. Doll?”

 

“Ms. Doll?”

 

“Yes. I need her assistance.”

 

Shiro didn’t know who was Ms. Doll and despite his own quite unusual name, he didn’t think the name “Doll” was very ordinary either.

 

The main door opened for the second time, Lance surprisingly _hopping_ in, holding his right foot.

 

“Stupid kids, leaving ice cream on the street…” he muttered, oblivious to the audience of two on his right. “If I was their father-”

 

“Good morning, Lance,” Shiro said.

 

Lance let out a loud sound, as if Shiro had scared him, before turning around to look at them.

 

“What are you doing?” he asked, frowning deeply. “Are you our new cleaning lady?” He narrowed his eyes at the bucket of water on the floor.

 

“I wanted to do something useful.”

 

Lance didn’t say it out loud but Shiro could read the words “you are strange in all the wrong ways” from his face. Then he glanced at the man beside Shiro.

 

“Hello!” he used such a pleasing tone that Shiro almost took a step back in confusion. “How can we help you, sir?”

 

The man looked at Lance’s dirty shoe, covered in white ice cream, before quickly answering, “I’m looking for Ms. Doll.”

 

“Oh, mostly likely Allura then. I can-” But Lance cut himself off when he remembered the state his shoe was in. He looked even more irritated than before. “Actually, Shiro, could you please show our customer the Automemory Doll’’s office?”

 

“Automemory Doll?”

 

“It’s on the second floor, straight to the left from the stairs. Please?” He shook his foot slightly, looking desperate.

 

“Oh. Alright, of course,” Shiro said. “And I will ask for Allura?”

 

“Yes. You will understand when you see her,” Lance told him before focusing fully on his problem, taking a seat on the bench.

 

Shiro didn’t understand his words but lead the way for the customer to the second floor; the writing department.

  
  
  
  


 

 

 

He found himself completely immersed. He followed the elegant fingers, typing the letters with such speed that it made his head fuzzy but it was still a pure act of beauty.

 

The woman’s calm, pleasant voice spoke at the same time as she wrote.

 

“You were the first person who reached out to me. You are my everything and I would do anything for you. If you were the sun, I would be the planets orbiting around you.” A pause. “My body would be in pieces and only when my pieces were close to you, I would turn whole. That’s why I want to say to you that I love you, more than anything, more than anyone else.”

 

Shiro’s heart stopped, his lungs locked together and he couldn’t breathe.

 

_I love you._

 

_“...from the bottom of my heart.”_

 

Allura, a woman with the beautiful voice, perfect words and long white hair, look up and asked from the customer, “How did that sound?”

 

The customer was squeezing his hat in his hands, overwhelmed in every sense of that simple word. “Yes,” he said with a rough voice, swallowed tears hiding behind the tone.

 

“Excellent.” Allura smiled. Shiro watched as she put the letter in a white envelope, closing it with a red seal. “Now you can take it downstairs to the first floor and they will send it for you. Thank you for visiting us, Automemory Dolls.” She bowed, swiping few white strands of hair from his face. “Have a lovely day.”

 

The man smiled at her gratefully. “Thank you so much,” he whispered before leaving.

 

Shiro stared at the door, blinking after what felt like an eternity.

 

“So,” Allura said, her voice slightly deeper now as she looked at Shiro. “I don’t mind the audience but I would still like to know who you are.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Shiro said. His voice sounded raspy, almost as raspy as the customer’s. “My name is Shiro.”

 

Allura opened her mouth, clearly trying to answer him, but Shiro did something he almost never did.

 

He interrupted the woman with his own question. “How did you know?” he asked, taking a tentative step towards Allura. She looked confused. “How did you know what to say? How did you know that he loved the woman he was going to send the letter to?”

 

Allura didn’t answer, only looked at him with sympathy. Like Shiro should have known it too and the fact that he didn’t was tragic.

 

“How do you know?” he asked. His right hand touched the wall beside him, almost leaning into it.

 

_What does “I love you”  even mean?_

 

Somewhere inside him, he felt a small flame light up.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
_prologue: end_


End file.
